


Not in Nottingham

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Fluff and Angst, Harry as Maid Marion, Harry in pointy boots tight trousers and puffy shirt, Hurt/Comfort, Liam as Friar Tuck, Louis as Robin Hood, M/M, Movie AU, Niall as Lady Kluck (just go with it), Royal/outlaw, Zayn as Little John, larry stylinson - Freeform, robin hood!au, self-indulgent Disney AU, slight Ziall, so pretty much reality there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-08
Updated: 2015-04-08
Packaged: 2018-03-21 22:37:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3706479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Love him?” The prince repeated, “and does this prisoner return your love?”<br/>Harry did not answer but stood looking at Louis, trembling and heaving breaths. Louis met his gaze, hair falling over his eyes, arms gripped roughly by two guards.<br/>“Harry,” he said simply, “I love you more than life itself.” </p>
<p> (Robin Hood au in which Harry and Niall steal the show, Liam's big heart gets him in trouble, and Zayn and Louis really should stop being arrow magnets)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not in Nottingham

**Author's Note:**

> So basically I saw Disney’s Robin Hood for the first time and it just screamed Larry so I had to write it that way. The characters are seriously perfect for the boys so I didn't have to change much. I also didn't plan for it to be so graphic but oh well.  
> Of course I don’t own anything related to Disney or One Direction, otherwise they would be starring in a live action of this. Ciao!

Zayn scowled as he tried to wrestle a royal arrow from his tunic. It had missed him by centimeters but still poked him whenever he tried to get it loose. He glanced up at the blue-eyed outlaw who was leaning blithely against the tree they were hiding in. 

“You know something, Louis? You're taking too many chances.” He said.

“Chances? You must be joking. That was just a bit of a lark, Zayn!” Louis laughed airily, watching the other boy’s struggles with a wild grin.

“Oh Yeah? Take a look at your hat. That's not a candle on a cake.” The dark-haired boy retorted. 

Louis snatched off his hat and examined the arrow run clean through it. “Helloooo, he smirked, “This one almost had my name on it, didn't it?” He ripped out the weapon and stuffed the hat back on his wild hair, gaping hole now prominent. “They're getting better, you know. You've got to admit it. They are getting better.” 

Zayn shook his head, “Yeah, next time that sheriff'll probably have a rope around our necks,” he throttled himself for effect, “Pretty hard to laugh hangin' there, Lou.” 

Louis snorted, “The sheriff and his whole posse would fall over if they ever got a look at that pretty face of yours. En garde!” He bent the arrow and flung it through Zayn’s hat. 

“Hey, watch it. That's the only hat I've got!” 

“Oh, come along. You worry too much, old boy," Louis teased. 

“All right, all right, but answer me this. Are we good guys or bad guys? You know, by our robbin' the rich to feed the poor.” 

"Rob?” Louis feigned shock and shook his finger, “That's a naughty word. We never rob. We just... sort of borrow a bit from those who can afford it.” 

“Borrow?” Zayn scoffed, “Boy, are we in debt.” Both boys turned as the sound of a trumpet playing the royal bugle rang through the forest. 

“That sounds like another collection day for the poor. Eh, Zaynie?” Louis asked with a familiar glint in his eye. 

Zayn smirked back, “Yeah. Sweet charity.” 

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Now what about that for luck?” Zayn mumbled as they crouched in the bushes watching the lavish caravan go by. “It's only a circus, nothing but peanuts.” 

"Peanuts? You dunce, that's the royal coach! It's Prince John himself!” Louis whispered excitedly. 

“The prince! Oh no, there's a law against robbin' him. I'm outta here.” Zayn stood up but Louis snatched his arm. 

“What? And miss this chance to perform before royalty!?” 

“Oh, here we go again.” Zayn groaned, but took the garish red dress and long black wig Louis handed him. Minutes later they were standing on the side of the road, dressed in full gypsy garb complete with wigs. Zayn hoped they pulled off the girly look. 

“Yoo hoo!” Louis was calling in a high-pitched voice, “Fortune-tellers! Fortunes forecast! Lucky charms! Get the dope with your horoscope.” He was waving a small amulet bag and the excessive jewelry he was wearing jingled with every swing. The royal carriage slowed to a stop and they saw the prince and his advisor lean out. There was some whispering between them before the prince called them over and held out his hands. 

“My dear ladies,” he said with a glittering smile, “you have my permission to kiss the royal hands. Whichever you like, first.” 

Louis fluttered his eyelashes and flipped a bit of blond wig, “Oh! How gracious!” He took the offered hands and kissed them, deftly slipping off the jewel-encrusted rings. The advisor looked suspicious, but of course, no one was the wiser. They weren’t the most wanted thieves in the kingdom by being sloppy. 

On invitation of the prince, Louis slipped inside the carriage to tell his fortune, while Zayn discreetly remained outside. He slipped around the back of the carriage ready to sneak Louis the crystal ball filled with fireflies. “Now close your eyes and concentrate.” Louis was saying, “Close your eyes. Tight shut. No peeking, sire! From the mists of time, come forth, spirits. Yoo-hoo!” 

When the ball had been safely passed through the curtain and the prince was being occupied by Louis, Zayn began to roam around and snatch whatever gold he could find, still hearing Louis’ voice from the carriage. 

“I see a face!” he was saying, “handsome, regal, majestic, lovable… a cuddly face!” Zayn rolled his eyes and pried off a gold hubcap. Carefully drilling into a wooden chest, he emptied the gold coins into his shirt and rounded the carriage just as Louis jumped out holding the royal purse. In their hurry they collided and gold spilled out over the ground. Frantically they gathered it up and took off running just as the guards realized something was wrong. 

“I’ve been robbed!” The prince bellowed, sending his guards crashing through the woods after the two thieves, who were already far gone. Louis whooped as he jumped over a log, the prince’s royal cape over his shoulders and a bag of gold in each hand. Zayn followed laughing hysterically and trying to run with hubcaps stuffed in his pants. 

Back in Nottingham, the sheriff was just starting his tax-collecting rounds. The large burly man strode down the dirty streets like he owned the place, shoving ragged peasants out of his way. Pausing at a corner, he watched the doorway of a small cottage, till it opened and a man in a brown monk’s robe emerged. 

“Well, lookie there,” the sheriff chuckled, “if it ain’t that young, do-gooder. Out doin' good again.” Oblivious to being followed, the friar continued down the street till he reached a small shop and entered. 

“Well, good mornin' Liam,” greeted the shopkeeper. 

“Shh,” the young man replied. He pulled out a small pouch of gold coins and handed it to the shopkeeper. “For you,” he said, “from Louis.” 

“Ahh, God bless that boy,” the man said gratefully, “don’t know what this town would do without him.” 

Liam smiled warmly and was about to reply when there was a sharp knock at the door. “It’s the sheriff! Quick, hide it!” he whispered. 

“Here I come. Ready or not,” said the sheriff, shouldering the door open and walking in, “greetings from your friendly neighborhood tax collector.” 

“Oh, take it easy on me, Sheriff,” the shopkeeper pleaded, “what with this busted leg and all, you know I'm way behind in me work.” He gestured to the cast encasing his lower leg. “I know, Otto,” the sheriff crooned, “but you're way behind with your taxes too!” 

The young friar clenched his jaw and stepped between them. “Have a heart, Sheriff. Can't you see he's laid up? Come on,” he said, taking the man’s arm, “you'd better sit down and rest.” With each step, however, the coins clinked from their hiding place in the cast, heard clearly by the sharp-eared lawman. 

“Here, let me help you with that leg,” he said suddenly. Lifting the injured leg of the now seated man, he pounded the bottom of the cast sharply, making the coins slide out into his waiting hand. The poor man cringed and cried out in pain, but the sheriff only sneered. “Smarts don’t it Otto? But prince John says that taxes should hurt.” 

Outraged, Liam leaped to the shopkeeper’s defense, “Now see here, you evil, flint-hearted leech!” He would have said much more, but the sheriff laughed in his face and shoved him aside. 

“Now, now, now, save your sermon, preacher. It ain't Sunday, you know. They call me a slob, but I do my job.” The lawman stuffed the coins into his belt bag and disappeared down the street. Sighing, Liam sank onto a wobbly bench and ran a hand through his hair. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. The man stared at the floor and didn’t reply. 

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Later that day, in the countryside around Nottingham, a group of ragged children ran excitedly around a small hut. A widow woman called them inside and they all began singing happy birthday. Barefoot, and with smiling, dirt-smeared faces, they bounced excitedly around a little boy and bestowed on him a tiny box wrapped with a blue ribbon. Suddenly their mirth was interrupted by the sheriff appearing at the door. 

“Well, now, sonny, that box is done up right pretty, no?” He said, addressing the tiny wild-haired lad. 

“Well, Mr. Sheriff, sir, it's my birthday present, sir,” the boy replied, eyes wide. 

“It sure is. Why don't you open it?” The sheriff said sweetly. Eagerly, the boy obeyed, and gasped in delight when a shiny coin was revealed. No sooner had he wrapped his little fingers around it, that the sheriff snatched it away to disappear in the tax purse. The boy threw himself to the floor and burst into tears. 

“Have you no heart?” The woman cried, “we all scrimped and saved to give that to him!” 

"Well that’s mighty thoughtful of you. The family that saves together, pays together.” He nudged the whimpering boy on the floor. “Don’t take it so hard, Sonny, prince John wishes you a happy birthday too.” 

Just then a beggar appeared in the doorway, covered in a worn cape and wearing blind-man’s glasses. “Alms, alms for the poor?” He wheezed, shaking a tin cup containing a few coins. The sheriff walked past the man, bouncing the coins out of his cup, pocketing them, and walking out the door. 

“Of all the mean tricks!” The woman gasped, “You poor old man, do come in.” She guided him to a seat.” 

“Ah thank you kindly,” the beggar replied, “tell me now, did my old ears hear someone singing a birthday ditty?” 

“Yes, sir.” The children replied. 

“That mean old sheriff took my birthday present!” The boy in question sniffed, smearing tears across his dirty face. 

“Did he now?“ The stranger replied, “but be a stout-hearted little lad, and don't let it get ya down,” he pulled off the cloak, making the children gasp. 

“Oh boy! It’s Louis!” The birthday boy exclaimed, running up and wrapping his arms around Louis’ legs, “I’m Skip!” 

“Hello Skip!” Louis grinned, ruffling the boy‘s red hair, “Nice to meet ya!” 

“He’s so handsome!” A little girl whispered, “Just like his reward posters!” 

“So tell me Skip, how old are you today?” Louis asked. 

“I'm seven years old, goin' on eight!” Skip puffed out his chest. 

“Well, that does make you the man of the house, and I've got just the right present for you.” Louis reached into his tunic and pulled out a small bow and an arrow, both carved out of branches. It was the perfect size for Skip. Skip’s eyes lit up. 

“For me? Gee, thanks, Mr. Louis, sir!“ He squinted hard and pulled back the bow, “Hey, how do I look?“ 

“Not much like Mr. Louis," one of the children replied. 

“She's right. There is something missing,” Louis pretended to think, “Of course! There you go.” He plucked off his hat and dropped it on the lad’s head. 

“Boy, oh, boy. Now how do I look?” The red-head asked, hat fallen down over his eyes. 

Louis chuckled and lifted the brim, “You’ll grow into it!” 

“This is awesome! I’m going to try out the bow!” Skip rushed out followed by the other children. With a chorus of “Goodbye, Louis!”,” Come again on my birthday, Louis!” They scampered through the door. Watching them go, the widow spoke. 

“You have made his birthday such a wonderful one. How can I ever thank you?” 

Louis turned to her and smiled sadly. “I only wish I could do more,” he said softly, and pulled out a pouch of gold coins. “Take this, and keep your chin up. Someday there'll be happiness again in Nottingham. You'll see.” 

The women smiled through her tears. “You've risked so much to keep our hopes alive," she said, "bless you.” 

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

“It's your turn to serve, Harry dear.” A blond boy with bright blue eyes twirled a badminton racquet and sighed amusedly as his companion fumbled with the shuttlecock.

“Of course! I’m waiting!” the first boy replied, bouncing on his feet. Harry launched the shuttlecock and the two continued their game. It was only the two of them, as Prince John’s castle garden was not exactly open to the public. Harry was a lord in his own right, and had returned from a length of time in London to his native Nottingham. Niall was his personal aide, though the two were more best friends than anything, and for the time being they were having a grand time. Harry paused to catch his breath, pushing his wavy, shoulder-length hair back from his face. The noble was known for staying in the height of 15th century fashion, and even for the game he was wearing the traditional tight trousers, narrow boots, and loose shirt that billowed around his broad shoulders half unbuttoned. Niall was wearing the same trousers, but with an embroidered tunic, a green one, which was his favorite. 

“Alright, here it comes!” Harry shouted, laughing as the other boy attacked the flying object with a mighty swing. Unfortunately for Niall, the shuttle glanced off the racquet edge and into the bushes. He groaned and collapsed on the grass. 

“I’m getting to old for this!” He complained loudly. 

“Well it was a good try,” Harry’s dimpled smile appeared over him, “go find it.” 

“You’re not bad yourself, and I ain’t movin. You get it.” 

Harry chuckled and went over to the bushes where the piece had disappeared. As he got closer, he heard a bit of rustling and spied a small red-haired boy grab an arrow that was stuck in the ground. When the boy saw Harry, he froze with a terrified expression. 

“Well, hello,” Harry said smiling, hoping to calm the boy a bit, “Where did you come from?” 

“Oh, please don't tell Prince John. Mama said he'll chop off my head!” The boy stammered, shaking. 

Harry shook his head. “Oh, don't be afraid. You've done nothing wrong.” He said warmly. 

“Harry, who are you…oh hi,” Niall said, spying the child, “and who might you be?” 

“I’m Skip,” came the quiet reply. 

“Now Niall,” Harry winked at his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder, “Who does this young archer remind you of?” 

Niall made a show of thinking hard, then snapped his fingers, “Well, upon my word! The notorious outlaw Louis Tomlinson!” 

Harry grinned widely, “That's right! Only Louis wears a hat like that.” 

The little boy brightened, “Yeah!, and check out this keen bow!” Suddenly they heard a small sneeze and Niall spotted the group of children watching from the gate. 

“Oh, Harry, don't look now, but I do believe we're surrounded.” He whispered. 

Harry followed his gaze and waved. "It's all right, children,” he called, “Don't be afraid. Please come here!” The children climbed through the gate and slowly made their way over.

“You’re lord Harry, aren’t you?” a girl asked, “Mama say’s you’re awful nice.” Harry blushed and another child tugged at his hand.

“I told Skip not to shoot his arrow so high,” she said.

“I'm so very glad he did,” Harry replied, “Now I get to meet all of you!” The little group surrounded him and began firing questions.

“Gee, you're very handsome“,” Are you gonna marry our friend Louis?” “Mama said you and Louis are sweethearts.” Niall and Harry exchanged glanced before Harry replied.

“Well…that was several years ago before I left for London.”

“Did he kiss you?”

Harry blushed again and sat down on the grass. “Well, no, but he carved our initials into this tree. I remember it so well.”

A small boy jumped on Harry’s back, “Are you gonna have kids? My mom gots lots of kids.”

Harry smiled and sighed, “Oh he’s probably forgotten all about me.” 

The children gasped in unison. “Oh, not Louis!” Skip assured, “I bet he'll storm the castle gates, fight the guards, rescue ya and drag you off to Sherwood Forest,” he jumped up and swung a stick like a sword. 

“Now just a moment there, young man. You've forgotten Prince John,” Niall appeared with a fake accent and another stick, “I, Prince John, challenge you to a duel. Hey, hey! Take that! And that! And this!” 

“Death to tyrants!” Skip hollered, and launched himself at Niall, the children cheering as the parried with their “swords.” 

“Save me, my hero!” Save me!” Harry yelled dramatically.

“Mercy!” Nial cried, falling to the ground with a blow from Skip. “Ah! He got me, I’m dying!” he continued, going limp. Skip ran up, worried.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked.

Niall opened one eye and grinned, “Nah, this is the part where you whisk Harry of to Sherwood forest.”

“C’mon!” Skip yelled, grabbing Harry’s hand and towing him into the bushes.

“Oh you’re so brave and impetuous!” Harry gushed, placing a loud kiss to the boys cheek, which earned a disgusted cry from Skip and peals of laughter from the other children.

Some time later, when the children had left, the boys retreated to Harry’s chamber. Niall sat against the wall strumming a mandolin, while Harry lay sprawled on the huge, ornate bed, staring at the ceiling.

“Hey Niall, do you think he knows how much I still love him?” Harry asked.

Niall smiled knowingly, “Of course, silly. Believe me, someday soon your Uncle, King Richard will have an outlaw for an in-law!

Harry laughed, then groaned, “But when Niall, when?”

“Be patient, Haz,” Niall waved his hand, “absence make the heart grow fonder and all that.”

“Or forgetful,” Harry murmured, “what if he has forgotten all about me?”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Back in Sherwood forest, Louis and Zayn were setting up camp in a carefully hidden place. Zayn was hanging up washing on a line between two trees while Louis sat on a log, absentmindedly stirring a pot of stew and humming to himself. Since Louis seemed a bit distracted, Zayn tried to get his attention.

“Hey lover boy, how’s the food coming? I’m starved.” No response. He tried again. “Louis? Lou?” More humming. Zayn huffed and stepped closer, “Louis! Hey!” The daydreaming boy gave a start and look up.

“Hm? What? What did you say?” Louis asked looking at Zayn.

Zayn smiled and laughed at the blue-eyed boy’s bewilderment, “Aw forget it, your mind’s not on food. You’re thinking about somebody with green eyes and curlyyyy haaair!” He teased.

Louis opened his mouth to respond but only yelped when the pot began to smoke and stew bubbled out. “Hey, woah! It’s boiling over!” he cried, jumping up and trying to get the pot away from the fire, nearly burning his fingers.

“You’re burning it!” Zayn rushed over and doused the fire, quickly stirring the now scorched stew. Louis’ shoulders dropped and he looked sheepish.

“Sorry, Zaynie,” he said miserably, “I guess I was thinking about Harry again. I can’t help it, I love him, Zayn.”

Zayn look at him fondly and sat down on the abandoned log. “Look, why don't you stop moonin' and mopin' around? Just marry the boy.”

“Marry him? You don't just walk up to someone, hand them a bouquet and say, "Hey, remember me? We were kids together. Will you marry me?" No. It just isn't done that way.”

“Aw, come on, Lou. Climb the castle walls. Sweep him off his feet. Carry him off in style,” the dark-haired boy prompted.

Louis sighed and turned away, “It's no use, Zee. I've thought it all out, and... it just wouldn't work…Besides, what have I got to offer him?” He said bitterly.

Zayn pulled a charcoal carrot out the pot and grimaced. “Well, for one thing, you can't cook,” he mumbled.

“I'm serious, Zayn. He's a highborn lord of quality.” Louis shoved a hand through his already messy hair. The two were so wrapped up in the conversation that they failed to notice Liam approach and listen sadly to Louis’ words. 

Zayn continued. “So he's got class. So what?”

“I'm an outlaw, that's what!” Louis cried throwing up his hands, “That's no life for someone like him. Always on the run, what kind of a future is that?”

“Oh, for heaven's sakes. You're no outlaw,” Liam finally burst out, “why, someday you'll be called a great hero!” Louis jumped backwards at the sudden appearance, tripped over the laundry basket, and fell into it.

“A hero?” Louis piped up, arms and legs hanging out of the basket, “You hear that Zayn? We’ve been pardoned.” 

Zayn laughed, “Let's not get ahead of ourselves, We’re not arrested yet.” 

Liam grinned and shook his head, “All right, laugh you two rogues!” He teased, “But there’s going to be a big to-do in Nottingham.” He picked up the ladle and tasted the pot’s contents, instantly choking and coughing. “Well done, ain’t it?” He sputtered, eyes watering. Zayn clapped him on the back as Louis escaped the basket and joined them. “Old prince John’s having a championship archery tournament tomorrow,” Liam finished. 

“Archery tournament?” Zayn perked up, “Ha! Lou could win that standin' on his head.“

Louis bowed low, “Why thank you, Zayn. But I'm sure we're not invited.”

Liam grinned and put his arms over each of their shoulders, “No, but there's somebody who'll be very disappointed if you don't come,” he said mysteriously.

Zayn rolled his eyes, “Yeah, old ‘Bushel Britches‘, the Honorable Sheriff of Nottingham.”

Liam shook his head, “No, Lord Harry.”

Louis eyes grew big, “Harry?”

“Yeah. He'll give a kiss to the winner.”

“Kiss to the winner!” Louis jumped up and snatched his bow, “Come on, what are we waiting for?”

Zayn followed and grabbed his arm, “Wait a minute, Lou. Hold it. That place will be crawlin' with soldiers.”

“Aha!” Louis simpered, “But, remember, faint hearts never won noble lords. Fear not, my friends, this will be my greatest performance.”

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

“Harry, stop vibrating,” was the first thing Niall said to him.

Harry took a deep breath and tried to steady his shaking hands. They were both dressed in their finery and seated on a special stand to watch the tournament. The platform was built up a few feet for a commanding view of the grounds and everyone on them.

“Ugh, I can’t help it. I’m just too excited,” Harry replied, “Do you think he will be here? How will I recognize him?"

“Oh I’m sure he'll let you know somehow,” Niall replied, bending down to tie his bootlaces, “that young rogue of yours is full of surprises. If he does show up, we’d better keep an eye on the prince.” They looked to the side at the stand adjacent to theirs, where the prince was sitting with his aide. Unbeknownst to any of them, Louis and Zayn were watching from the edge of the forest.

“There he is, Zayn!” Louis whispered excitedly, “Let’s go.”

“Cool it, lover boy. Your heart's runnin' away with your head,” Zayn pulled Louis back before he could waltz out into the open.

Louis sighed dramatically, “Oh, stop worrying! This disguise would fool my own mother. You made it, remember?” He was wearing common woodman’s clothing and a long cloak with the hood pulled up over his head. A leather mask concealed most of his face, and only one who knew those mischievous blue eyes as well as Zayn did would ever be able to tell his identity.

Zayn hummed agreement and poked Louis’ chest, “Well your mother isn’t here. You’ve gotta fool old Bushel Britches.” 

Louis winked and stepped out confidently, walking straight to the sherrif himself and shaking his hand. “Sheriff? Your honor?” Louis was asking.

“Yes?” The sheriff looked wary but pleased as his hand was enthusiastically pumped.

“Meetin' ya face-to-face is a real treat. A real treat!” Louis continued.

“Well, now, thank you. Oh, excuse me. I gotta go win this tournament.” The man tipped his hat and walked off. Louis gave Zayn the thumbs up.

Zayn smirked and nodded back. “Not bad Lou,” he murmured to himself, “but wait ‘till you see the scene I lay on Prince John.” 

If Louis’ disguise was good, Zayn’s was brilliant. He could easily pass for royalty in his extravagant deep red doublet and silk trousers. A glittering saber hung at his side and his black knee-high boots where shined to perfection. His hair was done up in a sweeping quiff and military decorations lined his chest. He drew himself up to full height and began to walk toward the prince’s stand, putting on the smoldering expression that Louis said was their greatest weapon. It seemed to be working. Already people were bowing and they had no idea who he was.

Zayn climbed the few steps and made a sweeping bow before the prince. “Ah! My lord. The esteemed royal sovereign of the realm. The head man himself,” he straightened and met the royal’s gaze, “you're beautiful.” 

The prince raised his eyebrows and look flattered. Scanning Zayn from head to tow, he nudged his aide. “He has style, eh?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Zayn smiled coyly. 

The prince’s aid looked peeved at the intrusion. “And you? Who might you be, sir?” he asked. 

Zayn lifted his chin and stared the man down. “I’m Sir Reginald, duke of Chutney,” he said lowly, “and don’t test me kid.” The aide turned red with anger but the prince was delighted. 

“Please sit down, Sir Reginald!” Zayn obliged and sat in the aide’s seat, much to the slight man’s consternation. The prince laughed at his tantrum, “With you around, no one needs a court jester,” he said to the man, “Now get out there and keep your eyes open for you-know-who.” 

The aide shot a withering glance at Zayn and stalked off, muttering. No sooner had they gotten settled than Zayn spotted Louis himself approach the stand. He made beline for Harry and bowed low.

“Ah, Your Lordship,” he said to Harry, “Beg your pardon, but it's a great honor to shoot for the favor of nobility like yourself. I hopes to win the kiss.” He rose and looked the other boy in the eyes. Harry caught his breath.

“Oh!..Well, thank you. I wish you luck, with all my heart,” Harry said sincerely, unable to tear his gaze away from the eyes behind the mask. He seemed to know them, but if only he could be sure. When the archer walked away, Harry let out the breath he was holding and glanced at Niall, who gave him a slight nod. A bugle sounded and they heard the Royal Captain shout from the tower, announcing the start of the tournament. Large crowds of commoners surrounded the grounds, kept off the field by a fence and a line of guards. Whether lord or commoner, every spectator watched with bated breath as the archers bent their bows and let a host of arrows fly. When it was Louis’ turn, he effortlessly scored a perfect shot.

“Flawless bullseye,” the prince commented thoughtfully, “well, well.” He kept an eye on the hooded figure as the match went on. 

Moving on to the next round, Louis found himself placed next to the sheriff of Nottingham himself, close enough to feel the man’s body heat. Louis took a deep breath and hoped the lawman couldn’t hear his wildly pounding heart.

“I’m going to win that golden arrow,” Louis said to no one in particular, “and then I’ll present myself to Lord Harry and…”

“Listen, kid,” the sheriff interrupted with a snort, “if you shoot half as good as you blabbermouth, you’re better than Louis Tomlinson.”

Louis laughed shakily, “Louis Tomlinson he says, woooho. I’m tip-top alright, but I’m not as good as he is,” he said shaking is head. They paused and shot another round in which both Louis and the sheriff scored perfectly.

“Oh, um, by the way,” Louis hedged, “I hear your having a bit of trouble getting your hands on that outlaw.”

The sheriff scoffed, “He’s scared of me is what he is. You notice he didn’t show up here today? I could spot him through them phony disguises!” Louis smiled to himself just as the captain announced the winner of the next round.

“And the final contestants are…the sheriff of Nottingham, and the woodsman from Devonshire!” Louis took his place beside the sheriff as the targets were moved back thirty paces. The sheriff shot first and got a perfect bulls-eye. He lowered his bow and leered at Louis.

“That shot wins the golden arrow, the kiss, and the whole caboodle,” he said. Louis ignored him and stepped up to the line. A glance toward the royal stands revealed Zayn smoothly chatting up the prince, the latter of whom was much too focused on Louis for his liking. Harry and Niall were nearly out of their seats with suspense. Louis turned his gaze back to the target, he had to win this. For Harry. Carefully, he knocked an arrow and pulled back the string. The noise of the crowd faded away, and all he could hear was his own steady breathing as he took aim. The twang of the string was deafening and for a split second everything seemed to stop. Then suddenly the crowd was on their feet, cheering and waving. Niall pumped his fist and whooped, and Harry was laughing with joy. 

Louis lowered his bow and looked at the target. His arrow had split the sheriff’s arrow neatly down the middle, causing it to sag and finally fall to the ground. His arrow sat dead center. Summoned to the prince’s stand, Louis knelt on one knee as the prince stood and addressed the crowd.

“Archer, I commend you,” the prince began, a sly look in his eye, “and because of your skill I name you the winner.” He rested his sword on Louis’ shoulder in honor, then paused. “Or more appropriately…the loser.” With one swift move of the sword the prince tore off the cloak and mask, revealing Louis. Harry and Niall gasped. Zayn had mysteriously disappeared.

“Seize him!” Commanded the prince. Louis leaped to his feet and dodged a few guards, but there were too many, and within seconds he was grabbed and bound tightly. “Bring him to the royal hall!” Prince John stood and made his way to the castle. Louis was dragged behind, and no matter how much he struggled he could not escape, or even catch a glimpse of Harry.

Once they had reached the hall, the prince sat down on the throne, his aide on the right, Harry and Niall on the left. Chains were shackled around Louis neck and ankles, and his hands were bound behind him. Harry looked as terrified as Louis felt, and though he wanted to comfort him, all he could do was smile sadly.

The crowd had gathered outside and the open windows were full of people looking through. The prince silenced the court with a wave of his hand.

“As an outlaw of the kingdom, and for extensive thievery of the royal treasury, I sentence you to immediate death.” The watching commoners broke into an uproar and Harry leaped off his seat.

“Please Sire!” he begged “I beg of you to spare his life. Please have mercy!”

The prince didn’t even look at him, “My dear boy why should I?”

“Because I love him!” Harry burst out. The hall fell silent and the prince looked at Harry, then at Louis.

“Love him?” The prince repeated, “and does this prisoner return your love?”

Harry did not answer but stood looking at Louis, trembling and heaving breaths. Louis met his gaze, hair falling over his eyes, arms gripped roughly by two guards.

“Harry,” he said simply, “I love you more than life itself.”

The prince rolled his eyes and faked a swoon. "Ah, young love," He mocked, "Your pleas have not fallen upon a heart of stone. But traitors to the Crown must die!" He pounded his fist on the throne, making everyone jump except the chained boy in front of him.

"Traitor to the Crown?!" Louis' incredulous shout echoed through the hall and his eyes flashed in anger, "That crown belongs to King Richard!“ He strained against the heavy metal and hollered at the top of his lungs, "Long live King Richard!"

The watching crowd of commoners immediately thundered back, "Long live King Richard!"

“Enough!” Prince John thundered, “I am king! Off with his head!”

“No!” Harry screamed, voice thick with tears. He tried to run to Louis, but was held back by more guards. Niall stood gaping, frozen with horror. The guards forced Louis to his knees and the masked executioner grabbed an axe from a soldier. As he began approaching, the prince’s panicked voice rang out.

“Stop!” He cried, “Executioner hold your axe. Sheriff, release…the prisoner.” Everyone looked at the prince quizzically.

“Unchain the prisoner?” The sheriff asked, bewildered.

“You heard what he said, Bushel Britches!” Niall hollered, but the men still hesitated. Unbeknownst to them, the cause of the prince’s strange behavior was the sword being held to his back by Zayn, who was out of sight behind the thick curtain that hung along the wall.

“Alright,” Zayn murmured, eyes dark with hatred, “make it work. They’d better let him go.” He dig the sharp point into the man’s back for emphasis.

“Sheriff!” The prince snapped, “I make the rules around here. Let him go for heaven’s sakes, let him go!” The sheriff obeyed and Louis was freed from the chains and ropes.

Niall danced on his chair, “Yee hee! Love conquers all!” Harry ran down the steps and flung his arms around Louis, burying his face in the other boy’s neck. Louis smiled and hugged him tightly.

“I owe my life to you, Harry,” he murmured. 

Harry pulled back and took Louis’ face in his hands. “I couldn’t have lived without you,” he said quietly, tears running down his face.

Suddenly there was a shout and loud crash, and they turned to see Zayn run out from behind the curtain, hotly pursued by the sheriff. It didn’t take Louis long to realize what had happened, and he shoved Harry towards Niall. The prince, realizing that the threat was removed, shouted at his guards. 

“Don’t just stand there! Kill him!”

Zayn ran towards Louis and threw him a sword, which he used to fell the nearest guards trying to grab him. As the clang and clash of weapons mingled with shouts, Harry pulled out his own sword and joined the fray, determined not to give up Louis without a fight. As they dodged and parried, he heard Louis shout over the din.

“Harry, will you marry me?”

Harry laughed and sent a guard flying. “Thought you’d never ask! But you could have chosen a more romantic setting!”

Louis felled a guard coming up behind Harry and shot him a grin. “How about London for our honeymoon?”

Harry dodged a flying spear. “Perfect!”

“How about Normandy? Or sunny Spain?” Louis jumped of a guards back and knocked over two more.

“Sounds great, Lou!”

The other boy swung and hacked his was across the hall. “We’ll have six kids!” Harry called after him.

“Oh, a dozen at least!” Drifted back the reply.

They continued to fight, the brawl growing till it filled the entire hall, the townspeople cheering from their viewpoint. Louis caught a quick glance of Liam in the window, brown robe billowing as he raised his fist, cheering them on. “We need it,” Louis thought. Though the boys were all skilled fighters, they were still outnumbered. 

Harry's sword was knocked out of his hand, and he threw several punches before being grabbed and dragged out of the fight. He struggled madly until he realized his captor was Niall. The blond boy had a black eye and a cut on his arm that was bleeding.

“What are you doing? Get out of here!” Niall scolded him.

“No way, I’m going to fight for Louis.”

“You already did. Now its my job to protect you and I say you’re done!”

“But…”

“Go!” 

Harry nodded and Niall shoved him back and dashed back into the skirmish, felling solders like bowling pins as he went. Harry was impressed by his friends fighting skill, making a note to ask him about it later. His thoughts were interrupted by a shout from the prince.

“Get Lord Harry!” He commanded. 

Looking around frantically, Harry realized he had been spotted, and he took of running as fast as he could through the mass of people. Escaping the hall he pushed through the jostling peasants outside, all trying to get a glimpse of the fight. Just as he grew tired enough to collapse, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see a kind-eyed young man in a friar’s robe.

“I’m Liam,” he said, “follow me, I know where you’ll be safe."

:::::::::::::::::::::::

The safe place Liam spoke of was the outlaw’s hideout in Sherwood forest. A few townsfolk were already there, and when Louis, Zayn, and Niall arrived a few hours later, they received a hero’s welcome. Harry and Louis immediately slipped away for a quiet walk in the forest, talking and holding hands tightly between them. At a small brook, they stopped and sat down.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Harry whispered, “I don’t want it to end.”

“Me too,” Louis replied, “but it must, at least for now. Until King Richard returns from his crusade, it’s up to us to keep England alive.”

Harry turned to him but didn’t reply. Gently he reached up and touched the bruises on Louis’ neck from the chains. Louis placed a hand over his.

“We’ll be alright,” he said, “it will all get better someday, you’ll see.”

“Always so hopeful,” Harry smiled, “I love you.”

Louis smiled back, “I love you too."

It was quite a while before the wandered back to camp, beaming and wrapped in each others arms. Everyone seemed to busy to take notice of them, but the two spotted Zayn and Niall by the campfire, talking quietly while Zayn bandaged Niall’s arm. Liam caught Louis’ eye and smiled, inviting them over. The townspeople were chuffed to bits to have all their heroes among them, and soon they were laughing and singing, happy voices drifting into the night.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

It wasn’t long before the news was spread that the outlaws had bested Prince John’s army and escaped. The citizens were thrilled, but the prince was so furious that he ordered all taxes doubled, and anyone who could not pay be thrown in jail. Of course, no one could pay this extravagant amount, and many citizens of Nottingham were arrested and thrown in the castle dungeon. Zayn, Louis, Harry, and Niall remained in the forest, while Liam returned to town with the others, hoping to be of some help.

It was a dark, rainy morning, and the bells tolled a hymn from the crumbling church tower. Liam stood beneath them, pulling the fraying ropes with all his might, moving from one to the next to create the melody. He and Mr. and Mrs. Wilshire, an elderly couple and the most faithful attendees, were the only ones in the small stone church.

“I don’t think anyone is coming Friar,” Mr. Wilshire said. He looked out at the rain through a broken window.

“You’re right, Mr. Wilshire,” Liam sighed, “but maybe the sound of this church bell will bring these poor people some comfort. We must do what we can to keep their hopes alive.”

The couple nodded their agreement and Liam sat down in the pew beside them. It was silent except for the sound of rain and the forlorn whistle of wind through the building. Gazing around, Liam felt his heart clench. His heart and soul was in this place, and he tried to care for it as best he could, but it was never enough. The place seemed to be slowly dying, along with the people of Nottingham.

“Did you hear about the widow Darby?” Mrs. Wilshire spoke suddenly, “She couldn’t pay her taxes and got led off to jail. And all those children too, why her little boy Skip was just at our house the other day, showing me a duckling he’d caught,” she paused to wipe a tear, “What ever will happen to them now?" Liam broke at that. Leaning forward he he dropped his head in his hands, choking back tears. He felt Mrs. Wilshire stroking his back gently.

“We can’t even take care of them,” he sobbed, “the funds we have for the poor are empty, just like this church, and how this town will soon be!”

“Now, now, all is not lost,” Mr. Wilsire said, “here.” He took Liam’s hand until he looked up, then gave him a small gold coin. “We’ve saved this. It’s not much, but please take it for the poor.”

Liam smiled through his tears. “Your last farthing? No one can give more than that. Bless you both.” The old folks smiled and Mrs. Wilshire patted him on the cheek.

“Oh we were just saving it for a rainy day,” she said, looking outside, “and it’s sure raining now."

Abruptly, the church door opened, “Well well, It looks like I got here just in time.” The three turned to see the sheriff stride in.

“What does that big-bellied bully want?” Grumbled Mr. Wilshire, before being shushed by his wife.

The lawman walked straight to Liam and stared down his nose. “Hello Friar,” he grabbed Liams wrist where he was clutching the coin tightly, “what have we here?”

“You can’t have it, it’s for the poor.” Liam growled.

“Of course it is, and I’ll take it for poor Prince John,” the man replied, “every little bit helps.” He twisted Liams wrist and ripped the coin from his hand.

“You give that back!” Cried Mrs. Wilshire.

“You thieving scoundrel!” Liam spat.

“Now take it easy Friar, I’m just doing my duty.” The lawman turned to go.

“Collecting taxes for that arrogant, no-good Prince John?!” Liam advanced, grabbing the man’s shoulder. Instantly the sheriff spun around and gripped Liam tightly by the collar, hauling him forward till they were face to face.

“Listen boy,” he said, voice in a deadly tone, “you’re mighty preachy, and you’re gonna preach your neck right into a hangman’s noose.”

“Get out of my church!” Liam screamed, shoving the man and making him stumble back. “Get out!” He snatched his wooden staff from beside the door and swung it hard, forcing the sheriff out the door and down the steps. The rain was still pouring and drenched both of them but Liam paid no mind, punching the sheriff in the jaw.

“You want taxes?” He shouted at the man now lying in the muddy street, “I’ll give you taxes!” The lawman pulled out his sword to block Liam’s next swing. On they fought, mud coating their clothes and buckets of rain drenching them to the skin. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed, drowning out Liam’s shouts and the sound of weapons clashing. Then, without warning, one of the sheriff’s men appeared and struck Liam over the head, making him fall to his hands and knees. Before he knew it, chains were being clapped around his neck and feet and he was being hauled up from the mud.

“You’re under arrest for high treason to the crown,” the sheriff spat.

“Just give the people a chance,” Liam pleaded.

“Why should I? Every town has its ups and downs,” said the sheriff.

“But shouldn't the ups outnumber the downs?”

The sheriff laughed and started dragging Liam down the street, “Not in Nottingham!" He jeered. Stumbling in the iron grip, the young friar looked back to see Mr. Wilshire in the doorway, holding his weeping wife.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The next day dawned sunny as Louis donned his beggars disguise and hobbled into the town square. He and Zayn were out and about looking for their next “charity drive.” Unfortunately for them the prince seemed to have learned his lesson and kept all his gold safely in the castle tower.

“Alms, alms for the poor,” Louis rasped, shaking a tin cup and feeling his way with a cane. There seemed to be a commotion ahead however, so he shuffled through the crowd 'till he could see a gallows being built by the sheriff and two guards.

“Eh? What be goin’ on here?” Louis asked, rapping a wooden post.

“Oh yer’ haven’t heard?” replied a guard, “We’re gonna hang friar Liam.” 

Louis jumped back and nearly dropped the cup before he remembered his act. “Is that so?” He said, willing his voice steady.

“Yep,” added the other guard, “the sheriff drug him in yesterday and Prince John gave the order this morning."

“Forgive me for my curiosity,” Louis probed, “but couldn’t there be trouble if that outlaw Louis shows up?”

The guards snickered, “I’d say the sheriff is counting on that. Thinks he can make it a double hanging,” said one.

“Shut up, blabbermouth! You‘ll give it away,” said the other. While they were arguing, Louis snuck away and found Zayn. His friend paled as Louis related the news.

“Lou, we can’t the them hang Liam!” He said frantically.

“I know. A jailbreak tonight is the only chance he’s got,” Louis decided.

Zayn‘s jaw dropped, “A jailbreak! Look at all those guards, you won’t have a chance of getting him.”

Louis shed his beggar clothes and grabbed his bow. “We've got to, Zayn, or Liam dies at dawn.”

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

The tower clock struck one and the bell tolled mournfully over the castle. Two silent figures deftly climbed the outer wall and crouched on the top. Guards silently stood their post or marched along the wall, calling reports occasionally. The two black forms, Zayn and Louis, dropped down and crept through the shadows. At the entrance of the prison sat the sheriff, sound asleep, large key ring hanging at his belt.

Louis snuck closer to nab the keys, but just as he reached out, the sleeping man shifted and blinked his eyes. Being completely trapped if the man woke up, Louis began to softly hum a tune that made the sheriff smile and yawn, settling back into slumber. Still humming, Louis carefully undid the man’s belt and slipped off the keys, handing them to Zayn to unlock the door.

“You free Liam and the others, I’ll drop in on the royal treasury,” he whispered. Zayn nodded and rushed up the steps, looking into each cell until he saw the brown-robed figure.

“Liam!” he hissed, unlocking the door and rushing in. Liam looked up and smiled slightly.

“Zayn?” he asked hoarsely, as the other boy quickly opened the chains that bound him to the wall. Liam’s wrists were bloody from being chained over his head, and he staggered as Zayn helped him up.

“Yeah it’s me. Let’s go.” Zayn wrapped an arm around Liam’s waist to steady him. “Gosh, what did they do to you? You alright?”

“Yeah, just a little dizzy. I’ll be fine,” Liam replied.

“Ok, do you know where the others are being held?” Zayn asked, looking both ways down the hall as they emerged from the cell.

“I heard them from the right, I think,” Liam said, pulling a torch off the wall, “we gotta be careful though, it’s easy to get turned around.”

Finding the imprisoned townsfolk was the easy part, they soon realized. Getting everyone out, elderly and children included, was the challenge. They led the ragtag group through the dungeon until they reached a window facing the courtyard, and Zayn motioned for them to be quiet as he leaned out through the bars. Peering around, he finally spotted the Louis on the balcony of the treasury waving his hand in their pre-arraigned signal. Zayn responded, then stepped back from the window and waited for the low thud that indicated an arrow had sunk into the wall behind him. Quickly he approached it and untied the attached rope. Tying the rope to another arrow, he grabbed his own bow and shot it back, making the rope loop around one of the iron bars.

The little group watched puzzled, and Zayn smiled at their confusion. “Just watch,” he whispered, and began to pull one side of the rope, making it move along the bar.

Meanwhile, in the tower, Louis was sorting his way through the royal treasury. Bags of gold were stacked everywhere and Louis got busy gathering them up and tying them to the rope that was strung from the balcony to the jail window. Louis attached the bags on the rotating line, and the gold traveled down to Zayn who untied them as they came to the window, distributing to the joyful people.

When the last bag was tied, Louis jumped on the rope himself and began sliding down towards the jail. As he moved however, one of the bags came loose and the coins crashed down on the sleeping sheriff below. Louis gasped and tried to move along faster but it was too late. Hearing the disturbance, the Sheriff shouted the entire castle into alert, and guards began to pour into the courtyard. Reaching the last few feet, Louis jumped to the ground, a flurry of arrows zinging over his head. Looking to the left, he saw Zayn and Liam burst out of the dungeon, fully-repaid citizens in tow.

“Get them!” Roared the sheriff, “Do not let them escape!”

As one, they all turned and began running for the main gate, Louis shooting off arrows of his own to slow the soldiers down. Zayn hurried the people onto a horse-drawn cart and leaped onto the seat. Cracking the reigns he thundered toward the gate, knocking over anyone who tried to stop them. Liam followed behind, rapidly pushing a wheelbarrow carrying Mr. and Mrs. Wilshire. Seeing a guard run at them with an axe, Louis ducked behind a statue and sunk an arrow into the soldier's back, knocking him to the ground and clearing the way to the gate. Jumping up, Louis dashed after them only to realize Zayn had stopped just outside the gate. Before he could question, he heard a woman in the cart scream. “My baby!” Back in the compound, a little toddler was running towards them, clutching a toy.

“I’ll get her!” Louis yelled to Zayn. Dashing back, he scooped up the crying girl and turned around, slipping on cobblestones as he tried to run with her. Before he could reach the outside, however, the massive wooden gate slammed down, trapping them inside. Zayn flew to them and tried to lift it, but to no avail. 

“Just take her, I’ll find a way out!” Louis handed the girl through the gate and began climbing it. Zayn sprinted back to the cart and took off.

Louis’ arms ached as he pulled himself up the gate. Here there was nothing to hide behind and nothing to shield him from the flying arrows and spears that were coming thicker. Reaching the top he put his back to the wall and slid along the stone ledge as fast as he dared. Just as he reached the balcony he heard the sheriff shout from below,

“We got him now! This time for sure.”

Gasping from the exertion, Louis flung himself over the railing and into the treasury room. Seeing a suit of armor in the corner he grabbed its sword and ran for the descending stairs. Suddenly, his path was blocked by the sheriff, holding a sword and a burning torch.

“This is it you filthy outlaw,” he leered, “There’s no escape.” 

Louis narrowed his eyes and swung his weapon, knocking the sword out of the other man’s hand. Enraged, the sheriff threw the torch at Louis, who ducked to avoid it, and it crashed into the doorway, setting the thick drapes on fire. Louis swung again but the sheriff recovered his own sword and deflected the blow. Minutes seemed like hours as the two battled, and the flames quickly spread to the roof. Smoke filled the room and Louis coughed, managing to evade a slice but dropping his sword. Accepting the window as his only escape, he scrambled out of it and climbed onto the tower spire. The roaring fire followed him and licked at the edge of the roof, cutting off his way down. There was no higher he could go, and clinging to the peak he desperately tried to think of an escape. On one side of the tower he could hear the shouts of the guards and the roar of the flames, thick smoke billowing over the castle and into the night sky. On the other side he could see the forest, cool and beckoning, trees lining the banks of the deep moat far below.

The moat. That was it. His only chance. Taking a deep breath, Louis ran two steps and threw himself off the spire as far out as he could. Faster and faster he fell till he hit the water and sank. Fighting his way back to the surface, he heard arrows fly through the air and splash into the water around him. Quickly, he began swimming toward the shore, which seemed to mock him by moving farther and farther away.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Ever since Zayn had left Louis at the castle, there was a heavy feeling of dread in his stomach. As soon as he could bring the people back to the village, he grabbed Niall and dashed back. They arrived at the forest’s edge just in time to see Louis leap off the tower and plunge into the moat.

“C’mon Lou,” he pleaded, watching Louis pop up and being swimming towards them. The attacking arrows were getting closer, and Zayn watched in horror as his friend made it about half way across, before sinking back under the water.

“No, no, no, c’mon. You can make it!” Zayn dropped to his knees on the bank, feeling Niall’s hand on his shoulder. After a few agonizing seconds, there was a splash a few feet away and Louis burst out, throwing an arm onto the shore. The boys were by his side in an instant and pulled him out onto dry ground.

“Zayn,” Louis choked weakly, and Zayn’s heart nearly stopped when he saw an arrow embedded in the boy’s shoulder. Fighting back tears, he gently cradled Louis in his arms, blood spreading and soaking Zayn’s own tunic.

“You’ll be alright, we’re getting you out of here,” he said shakily, just as Niall hit him on the back and pointed.

“The guards are coming, I can see their torches,” he said.

Zayn stood up and started running, Niall close behind, sword drawn. Even though Zayn knew these woods by heart, his panic made him slip and stumble as they crashed through the undergrowth as fast as they could. The soldiers out looking for them made a great amount of noise themselves, and so the boys’ movements drew no attention. 

On they ran, into the embrace of the dark forest, white mists and night sounds surrounding them. Zayn panted from the exertion, the unconscious Louis a lead weight in his arms. Trying to match his running with his heavy breaths, he forced himself to keep going. His lungs screamed and his heart pounded louder than his boots on the damp English soil.

“We’ve lost them.” Niall puffed from behind, just as Zayn spotted the glimmer of light from their destination. As they approached, the grey form of the town church became visible, and they made their way toward it through the graveyard, tombstones looming out of the low fog like ships on a sea.

Without hesitating, they burst through the door, Niall bumping into Zayn’s back when he stopped abruptly. Liam looked up as they entered, and jumped to his feet when he saw Louis.

“Bring him here,” he instructed, leading them quickly to the front where Harry was sitting by a small fire with Mr. and Mrs. Wilshire. Harry gasped when he saw them and rushed to Louis’ side. Zayn laid him gently on a pile of blankets Liam had prepared, face down because of the arrow still lodged in his back. Harry wanted to faint when he saw the bloody weapon stuck in Louis. His limp, unresponsive, beautiful Louis. He knelt beside the makeshift bed, afraid to touch him, but unwilling to stay away.

“The arrow has to come out,” Liam was saying, “I brought Mrs. Wilshire in case something happened. She’s the best nurse we've got.” The spry old woman was already unpacking her few supplies. The boys carefully cut off Louis’ shirt and placed clean rages under his sides. 

“Alright,” Liam said finally, “this is the hard part. Harry, hold him down.”

Harry swallowed hard and did as he was told, leaning forward and pressing his arms over Louis’ back and shoulders. In the corner of his eye he could see Mr. Wilshire doing the same to Louis’ legs. Wanting a distraction, Harry looked for Zayn and Niall. Zayn was stone-faced and shaking, eyes riveted on Louis’ prone form. Niall was beside him, looking at the other boy worriedly, as if he was a cornered wild animal. 

Liam was counting, his hand firmly gripping the arrow shaft. With the first pull Louis cried out, though still unconscious, and Zayn recoiled as if the pain was his own. Blindly he lunged toward them, but was stopped by Niall. Liam continued to work the arrow out as carefully as he could, pushing and pulling. Harry felt sick and averted his gaze, but the alternative view wasn't much better. A sobbing Zayn was being pinned against the wall by Niall, who was blocking Zayn’s view with his own body. Tears streamed down the dark-haired boy’s face and his eyes were screwed shut, the screams of his friend ringing in his ears. 

Just when Harry thought he couldn't take a second more, it was over, Liam and Mrs. Wilshire beginning to clean and dress the wound. Harry helped as instructed, steading his hands to wrap the soft bandage around Louis’ chest.

“He’ll need rest now,” Mrs. Wilshire said softly, “but we will need some salve to put on the wound every few hours. Someone must get it from the town chemist.”

“I’ll get it,” Liam offered, standing and brushing off his robe. The elderly couple left with him after promising to come back in the morning. 

After they were gone it became very silent, and Harry moved closer to lay down next to Louis, who was now on his back. Harry lay there for a few moments just looking at the other boy. His heart ached as he gently brushed the soft hair from Louis’ face. He looked so small and fragile, yet so peaceful, and Harry burned with a desire to protect him. He opened his mouth to plead for the unconscious boy to live, but no sound came out. Tears were easier, Harry found, and the ones he had been holding back slowly flowed.

“Are you alright Harry?” Niall’s soft voice drifted to him, causing a few more tears to escape green eyes.

“I will be if he is,” Harry whispered.

Niall nodded slightly, now sitting on the floor with Zayn curled in his lap, unmoving. Harry wondered what had happened before they had stumbled into the church, for it seemed Zayn was completely drained of nearly life itself.

When he heard the door open some time later, Niall and Zayn had both fallen asleep. Harry didn’t waste energy looking up, figuring Liam would just do his thing. It wasn’t until shiny black boots that were definitely not Liam’s appeared in front of him, did Harry look up. There scowling, and with two soldiers besides, was Prince John himself. Harry was at a loss. Things just couldn’t get worse, and he was tired of it. What was there to say really?

“Hello Harry,” the prince said cordially, shaking his head when he saw Louis, “Oh dear, he looks pretty bad off. Maybe I should put him out of his misery.” He reached for his sword with a sneering smile but Harry beat him to it. Surging up, he snatched his own sword and pointed the tip against the princes chest.

“Don’t. Touch. Him.” Harry growled, “I’ve had enough of you and your cruel ways.” He may have killed the royal then and there had not the two soldiers seized Niall and Zayn off the floor and pressed blades to their throats.

“Release the prince or they die!” One guard commanded. Zayn was instantly alert and realized what was going on, but Niall was still waking up. Seeing the helpless state of his friends, Harry reluctantly lowered his sword.

“You won’t always come out the victor,” he said firmly, “Sooner or later your own merciless works will turn on you and your power will end.”

“I’ll make that sooner!” Came a new voice. Turning to look, Harry was dumbfounded to discover it belonged to none other than King Richard himself. He was flanked by personal armed courtiers and had a murderous look on his face. Harry fell to one knee and the guards holding Niall and Zayn promptly released them and did the same. King Richard strode up to the prince, making the latter cower and bow at his feet.

“Get up, knave!” Commanded the outraged king, “Explain all this to me, if you can!” The prince stuttered but did not reply. “I leave the kingdom in your hands while I am on crusade and come back to find the people oppressed!” The king thundered.

As he continued his tirade, Harry wondered how the king happened to stop at the church on his return trip. His answer was supplied when he spotted Liam leaning in the doorway, arms crossed and a smug smile on his face. “I should have you banished forever,” King Richard continued, “but it would upset mother. Never mind, I’m sure we can come up with a suitably wretched punishment,” he clapped his hands, “Take him away!” He ordered. When the prince had been led out by the same guards he had come in with, the King approached Harry.

“I’m so sorry,” he said kindly, looking the boy in the eyes, “It pains me to think any nephew of mine received such treatment.”

“It’s alright, Sir,” Harry replied, “It’s the people that really suffered, and Louis…” his voice caught.

The king looked down at Louis and sighed. Harry wiped his own eyes and began telling the king about what had happened while he was gone, and what Louis and his band had done. When he was finished the King silently knelt on one knee and studied the wounded boy.

“England,” he said slowly, “owes him a great debt." Harry bowed his head, speechless. “And you too,” the king added, looking at Zayn, Niall and Liam, who had gathered around. Finally he stood and resumed his commanding demeanor.

“Come, you must all come to the palace with me. You will be honored, and Louis will receive the best of care.”

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

 

Harry loved birds, except when being woken up by them so early in the morning, no matter how pretty they sounded. Grudgingly he opened his eyes, squinting at the bright light streaming through the window. He tried to take a deep breath but was hindered by the weight on his chest. Smiling he wrapped his arms around the snoring Louis whose hair was tickling Harry’s nose. If he could, he would carry Louis everywhere and rock him to sleep every night, reveling in the joy of having this beautiful person - living, breathing, and happy - by his side.

It had been nearly two months since King Richard had returned, straightening out the kingdom in no time at all. The shabby towns were being repaired, and the people given back everything they had been robbed of. Nottingham’s church was restored to its former beauty and was now filled with happy, healthy citizens. Harry swore Liam had never been so happy in his life.

Louis had been nursed back to health and was nearly fully recovered, spending his days in the castle with Harry. Lately he had been itching for something to do, the lack of his former active life making him restless. He practically jumped with joy when Harry told him the king had offered him the position of royal archery instructor after he was fully healed. Harry got around to asking Niall about his fighting skills one day, and found out that he had been part of the royal guard before he met Harry, and received the best warrior training in the country. The blond boy now held a high position in the court along with Zayn, and if they were found together more often than not, no one mentioned it.

Filled with happy thoughts, Harry wished he could stay like this all day; snuggled with Louis in a cloud-soft bed. However, there was a pressing event later that day they couldn't miss.

“Louis,” he hummed, stroking the boys feathery hair. Louis shifted but didn’t respond. “Lou,” he tried again, a bit louder, “come on, love, we have to get up.”

“Nooo,” Louis moaned, burying his face in Harry’s neck, “want to stay.” 

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Sorry Lou, but we have an important event today.”

“Can’t we move it?” The blue-eyed boy mumbled sleepily.

Harry laughed at that. “I’m afraid not, we already invited everyone.”

Louis brow furrowed as he tried to remember what event they could have possible invited people too. Suddenly his eyes flew open and he sat up in bed.

“We’re getting married!” He gasped. Harry nodded in amusement, dimpled grin wide. Louis launched himself at Harry and planted kisses all over his face.

“Ok, ok, ok!” Harry giggled, “let’s get going then.” Louis rolled off the bed and grabbed the fancy clothes laid out for him, tugging on the trousers and shirt.

“Hey, let me help you,” Harry protested, “don’t hurt yourself.”

“For Saint Anthony’s sake, Harry I can dress myself. I’m fit as a fiddle, see?” He rolled his shoulder for emphasis.

Harry smiled fondly, “I know, just looking out for you,” he replied. Louis smiled back and came over to Harry, taking his face in his hands.

“I know,” he said softly, “thank you.” He leaned in and kissed Harry. “I love you very much,” he whispered, staring into bright green eyes. Harry pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him. 

“I love you too,” he said wetly. Hearing a tell-tale sniff, Louis pulled back and looked at him sternly.

“Now don’t get weepy Harold, I’m here to stay and nothing’s going to happen to me.” He grabbed the boy’s hand and grinned. “Now get a move on! We’ve got a wedding to put on."

 

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The wedding went off without a hitch. Well, they got hitched, but nothing went awry. Village children threw just the right amount of flowers and Liam said all the right things. The town church was filled to overflowing, and there was even a crowd outside trying to get a glimpse through the windows. Zayn and Niall were sat front row, secretly wiping tears of happiness. After all was finished, Harry and Louis walked out and got in the carriage that would take them to London. The two were practically glowing, and the townsfolk cheered and waved. King Richard, who had also attended, stopped to shake Liam’s hand.

“Well it seems I have an outlaw for an in-law,” he chuckled. Zayn and Niall came up to them and they all watched as the carriage began to drive away.

“See you soon!” Louis shouted.

“Be good while we’re gone!” Harry added.

Niall turned to Zayn who was beaming, eyes crinkled with joy at seeing his friends so happy. Without warning, Niall whooped and jumped into the dark-haired boy’s arms. Zayn grabbed him in a bear hug, spinning Niall around, making him cackle loudly. Liam looked on fondly. 

“Look at them, all of ‘em,” he remarked to the king, “Isn't there a law against folks being that ridiculously happy?”

The King smiled and winked at Liam, “Not in Nottingham, Friar. Not in Nottingham.”


End file.
